


Written In Ink

by DragonGirl420



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:44:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl420/pseuds/DragonGirl420
Summary: Set in the same world as 'The Stranger' series, Dean and his girl are just trying to find their way balancing hunting and everyday life when things take a turn. This is a slow burn fic with multiple, upcoming chapters.





	Written In Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel Series: The Stranger. Banner gif graphic made by me.

 

The slow methodical beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room as Dean hovered over the bed watching her sleep. He was exhausted, but he refused to leave her side until she woke up. They said she would be fine, her wounds were superficial and there were no broken bones. He told the ER intake nurse that she had been in an accident. At the time, it seemed like the most plausible excuse for her injuries, and the one least likely to arise suspicion. Luckily, they believed him without many further questions. The last doctor that had come through said there was no real reason as to why she wasn’t awake and had no real idea when she may be.

But Dean knew why, and he blamed himself for it.

He held her hand and thought back to the day they met. It was still hazy for him, but he remembered enough. He had been in a car accident the night before. After the shifter hunt, they’d been chased, and the car flipped when it hit the guardrail, tossing Dean from the windshield and hurling his body across the deserted, pitch-black landscape. He woke the next morning alone and hurt, still bleeding from his head and remembered none of it. Finally, able to get up on his feet, he had started walking for what felt like days and didn’t stop until her truck pulled over to help him.

Dean snorted a frustrated sigh when he realized the irony of it all. He’d refused the offer of a hospital back then; just a gut reaction he suspected. Yet now here he was, sitting vigil at her side in a hospital waiting for her to wake up and praying to God that she  _doesn’t_  remember what she’d just been through.

He had left her alone at the store. He thought the warding would hold and he never thought about warding her. “I’m a damn idiot,” he rasped, chastising himself. Then he remembered his nightmares, the ones he had when he first met her and couldn’t remember his own name. They had lasted for weeks, relentlessly torturing him while he slept. But it was one of the last ones he had that clung to him now and made his skin turn cold. Dean recalled seeing the yellow eyes of Azazel promising he would take her and shivered despite the warmth of the room.

It may not have been yellow eyes, but she’d been touched by his world and in one of the worst ways possible. He would never have forgiven himself if she had gotten seriously hurt, or worse. She was starting to come around. He sat up and watched intently, silently begging her to open her eyes. Dean watched nervously as they began to flutter and for the briefest of moments, he swore they were still black.

[Originally posted by thejabberwock](https://tmblr.co/Zvu8vg2Xnb3Wo)

 

You felt something against your hand and could sense Dean was there. Forcing your eyes to open was a chore and you couldn’t understand why, but when you finally did, you knew something wasn’t right.  

“Dean?”

Your voice was raspy and dry, and your throat hurt like hell. When you tried to move your arm, you felt the restraint of the tubes attached to the needles stuck in the back of your hand were holding you back. Finally, your eyes focused on him. He was watching you wake up, sitting in a chair beside the bed and wearing an exhausted smile. Dean’s eyes were dull and sad, on his face he wore at least a few week’s growth of stubble that could more easily be classified now as a beard. Searching his expression, you tried to find the cause of why he looked the way he did.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he said quietly and squeezed your hand that was still in his. “How ya feeling?”

“Tired…” you paused and looked around seeing your surroundings. A mild panic began to build, but you looked to Dean for answers before letting it get out of control. “Dean? Why am I in the hospital? What happened? Why do you look like you’ve been on a weeklong bender?”

Before he could answer, a nurse walked in with a pleasant smile sewn into her features. “Oh good, you’re awake. I’ll just do a quick vital check and go get Dr. Fisher. I’m sure he’ll want to see you. You feeling alright today, hun?”

You nodded and watched as she silently went about checking your vitals, never really looking to you for a response to her question. She just passed a congenial grin to Dean before leaving the room.

When she was gone, you turned back to Dean. “Please… what the hell is going on?”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me, please, just tell me. Why am I here?”

Dean hung his head briefly before pulling his chair closer to the bed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

You closed your eyes and thought back to the last clear memory you had. “You and Sam had left for work, and… Todd had come in for his order.” After that, your memory went dark. You shook your head, trying to rattle something more, but there was nothing.

Everything felt like it was behind this thin veil, just out of reach. It made you feel foggy and unsure. The visions that you could see were foreign and strange like you’d been dreaming about unknown places and people. “I feel like I’ve been asleep forever,” you closed your eyes and had a sudden flash of something terrible, it was muddled and distant but still left you trembling. “I had terrible nightmares. Dean… what the hell happened?”

“In a way, you were sleeping… Do you remember all that warding I put around the house and the store?”

You nodded and tried to think back to when you first expanded the general store to include  _Stranger Things_. When you initially had suggested it to him and Sam, they weren’t too gung-ho for the idea. Even with all their objections, you told them you were determined to do it. After a bit of discussion, they agreed it would be good for all involved, but with that came a few precautions. They insisted on warding. They went about adding symbols everywhere; carved into the wood, painted on the ceilings and floors, hidden in places that most people would never see. Dean wanted to ensure your safety when he wasn’t around, and you were happy to let him do it.

“What about it?”

“We put them there to keep out some of the monsters we hunt,” he paused, his tongue darting out nervously over his lips. “Unfortunately, it didn’t stop one from attacking you outside of the shop. Sam and I came back the next day and you were gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“Just… gone. You… your truck… vanished. You wouldn’t answer your phone for me or Sam. Never showed back up at home, either. So, I went back and watched the security tapes. Everything looked normal ‘til I checked the one outside. You were getting in your truck to go home I guess and…” Dean paused again and ran a hand over his face and across his heavily bearded cheek, “…and, uh, that’s when I saw the black smoke.”

The ability to speak had all but left you. All you could do is stare at him in disbelief while trying to process the news he’d just delivered. The longer you stared, the more uncomfortable he was. Dean shifted in his seat and continued to hold your hand but couldn’t look you in the eye.

“A demon?”

Dean sighed shakily. “Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault—”

“No, it’s not,” you replied flatly. You gingerly pulled your hand from his and pressed it against your temple. Your head began to ache above your eyes and expanded across your forehead at the notion of what he was telling you. “How long?”

Dean furrowed his brow, then understood the question. “Three weeks.”

Your stomach churned at the thought. “Three weeks? How… where–?”

“Sam and I got the trail pretty fast, but it always kept you one step ahead. Finally tracked you down a couple days ago and we were able to exorcise it. Thank God it didn’t seriously hurt you. Brought you here just to be sure you were alright.”

Dean continued talking, laying out details he knew of your time possessed, but the sound of his voice began to drift as you slipped away into yourself. The nightmares were flashing before your eyes. But now that you knew what happened, you were certain they weren’t only nightmares. Some were memories, but you could in no way discern one from the other. Just like when Dean had his nightmares at the start… he was just reliving his life during sleep. Remembering how it tormented him, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would now suffer in the same way.

He was in the middle of saying something, you had no idea what, but it didn’t stop you from asking what you needed to know. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No. Not that we know of.”

You nodded subtly. “That’s good. Did… did I hurt you?” You looked down at his hands and forearms, noting the slashes and bruises there.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a semblance of a smile. “How about you? Are you alright? Can you remember anything else?” You didn’t answer, just stared blankly at the wall in front of you. “Y/N?”

“I feel dirty, Dean. Knowing something took over and walked around for three fucking weeks, in  _my_  body, that I have zero recollection of…”

A shiver passed down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You couldn’t look at him, you were afraid of what you’d find there. Would he look at you differently? Would this ruin everything you’ve built with him over the last seven months? You needed time to process what he’d told you; just a little time to think. You turned your head so he couldn’t see how your eyes had been consumed by tears.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You’re gonna be alright. You didn’t hurt anyone. We found you and got it out before it could hurt you or anyone else.”

You couldn’t respond. Dean caught the hint that you needed some time and stood up from the chair.

“Are you hungry? You’re probably hungry. I’m just gonna grab some grub and come back, ok?”

You nodded slightly. Even though you were still looking away, could feel how deeply he regretted what happened to you, and that he blamed himself. You wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, and you would, but you just needed time.

Dean took your silence as his cue to go and exhaled deeply. Just before he could leave, the door to the hospital room opened and Sam came in, a wide grin in his face once he saw you sitting up in the bed.

“Hey! You’re up!” His sunny demeanor was quickly darkened once he read the room. Dean grumbled about going for food and quietly slipped out the door without another word. Once you heard the click of the handle, the dam burst, and the tears finally fell.

Sam sat on your bed and pulled you into an embrace. “Hey, Y/N, it’s alright, what happened? The docs said you’re going to be ok. No serious injuries–”

“It’s not that Sam,” you retreated from his embrace and reached for the tissues next to the bed. Once you wiped your face you met his gaze and anxiously exhaled. “I can’t look at him. I’m afraid of what I’ll find there.”

“This wasn’t Dean’s fault. He was frantic looking for you. The guy barely slept for weeks,” Sam pleaded, “Y/N, he loves you—”

You shook your hand and took Sam’s hands. “No, no, I know that. I don’t blame him at all. God, if anything, this is my fault. I wasn’t paying attention… I just—it’s not important. But I don’t blame Dean. If anything, I’m afraid of what I did to him.”

“How so? I mean you fought back a bit once we caught up with you, but you didn’t hurt him.”

“Not physically,” you mused inaudibly. The images that you thought were dreams, the ones that were really just snapshots of what happened while you were possessed, were not all violent or malicious. Some were disturbing for other reasons. Bile rose in your throat, and when you met Sam’s gaze again, you didn’t know if you could say what you needed too. His comforting smile gave you the courage to speak and admit your fears. “But, what if I hurt him in another way. What if,” you leaned forward and whispered, “I slept with someone else? It would kill him. And me.”

Sam considered what you said and squeezed your hand. “Y/N, Dean loves you. A lot. He understands that whatever happened while you were, not yourself, its not your fault. Hell, I tried to kill him  _and_  Jo when I was possessed. Not to mention other, truly terrible things.” Sam got quiet, lost in a moment of time he probably would have rather forgotten. He cleared his throat and brought his gaze back to you. “He forgave me. The hardest part will be trying to forgive yourself.”

“You were possessed?”

Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah. Wasn’t my proudest moment. My point is, it happens. It’s harsh, I know, but it does. Please don’t let this ruin what you guys have. My brother doesn’t get attached to many things. His car, his music, keeping me breathing, and now, you.” He chuckled and smiled when he saw you smirk in response. “He certainly wouldn’t let this come between you. I hope you don’t, either.”

“I don’t want it too, but how do I come back from this? These memories? I feel like he can see right through me, he’s gonna know.”

“Y/N, he probably already does know. Dean’s been through a lot. We both have. One thing I’ve learned about this life is that when you’re faced with the hard memories, you push them aside and replace it with a good one. You let them go as best you can, otherwise it can kill you. You just get up, keeping trying, and don’t let it happen again. Not that it was your fault, either, by the way. Some demon wanting to take you for a joyride is  _NOT_  your fault. Besides, do you know this for sure or are you just making assumptions?”

The sound of the door opening brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Dr. Fischer came in and wanted to do a quick examination, asking Sam to leave before he could. Finding nothing of concern, he mentioned keeping you one more night and being released the next day. Sam returned after the brief exam, and you relayed the good news. You didn’t answer his last question, but it gave you a lot to think about. Dean returned shortly thereafter with the food, and you made Sam promise to stay and keep the mood light, just until you could out how to come to terms with it all.

 

Early the next morning, Dean arrived to bring you home from the hospital. He was overly accommodating and doing everything he could to help you not think about the possession anymore. Once you were officially discharged, he wheeled you out to the main entrance. The cool, fresh air against your skin felt like heaven, and you could feel a bit of your old self, peeking through the veil of muck that was draped over you like a web. Dean helped you out of the wheelchair; not that you needed it, or the wheelchair, but you knew both were for good reason and didn’t fight it.

The orderly who had walked out with you took the chair and went back inside, leaving you and Dean alone for the first time since the day before. He was nervous but looked better than he had when you first woke up. His face was cleanly shaven, and the bags of exhaustion less apparent under his eyes and though he still looked weary, his smile was a bit lighter.

“Where’s Sam? Wasn’t he here with you yesterday?”

“Yeah, he left last night. Headed back to get the house cleaned up for you. So, uh, hungry? Did they feed you today? There’s a great diner a few miles from here and it’s a long ride home. I mean we can stop anywhere, but–”

You shook your head. “No, not really hungry, thanks though. I just wanna go home, Dean. Take a shower and try to feel like myself again.”

“Yeah, of course. Home it is,” he said, his smile present, but sad. He lightly grabbed your arm to stop you before you could get into the car. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I just want things to be how they were, too.”

He was desperately searching your eyes for something familiar, or maybe just a sign that you want the same thing.

“We’ll get there,” you shrugged, “it’s just gonna take me a little time.”

Dean nodded in understanding and let you go so you could get into the car. He closed the door for you and hesitated by the trunk before walking around to the driver’s side. He drew in a deep breath and prayed, again, that you’d not remember whatever vile things happened while you were gone.

* * *

 

The drive from the hospital was quiet. You asked about the state of the store, and he reassured you it was being well taken care of. You watched him occasionally from the corner of your eye and with each mile closer to home, he seemed to be getting more and more frustrated. Assuming it was because of you, you stayed quiet and turned to watch the scenery pass by from the window.

Years of mental and physical abuse because of your stepfather and brother, had left you in a constant state of anxiety and fear. Since meeting Dean, those insecurities had not exactly dissipated but lessened enough for you to begin building your confidence and belief in your own self-worth. Before this possession happened, you had really begun to love who you were becoming. Not  _because of_  Dean, exactly, but because his presence in your life made you hopeful; it made you feel love, support, and encouragement like you never had before. Something that both he and Sam, seemed to give you.

Since waking up in the hospital, all that seemed as though it was washed away. All the old fears and anxieties were daring to settle back into place and telling you that all of this was your fault.

As you coasted into the main through-way of your town, Dean sharply jerked the wheel and pulled the Impala to an empty spot along the curb and shifted into park. You looked at him inquisitively, but he just sat silent, with both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His head was hung to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Dean is everything alright?”

“Do you remember that first night we, uh, you know… anyway, we got into an argument in the kitchen. You were pissed because I didn’t tell you why or what I was holding back… remember?”

“Of course, I remember,” you responded in a murmur.

“You’re holding back from me now. I gotta say, I don’t like it,” he finally turned in his seat to face you, “you need to talk to me. If this  _is_ gonna work, we need to be able to talk this stuff out.”

You couldn’t help but let out a burst of laughter. Dean watched you with an unamused expression. When you finally got yourself under control and saw how he was looking at you, you felt yourself getting a little angry.

“Seriously? Talk it out? Dean, we’ve known each other for seven months, most of which has been spent stolen in moments while you come and go. When was there time to talk about it? I get that it’s been weeks for you, but this is all new for me! You left, and I got possessed. Now, here we are, talking about it. What fucking more do you want from me?!”

Dean gave an exasperated chuckle and shook his head. “Alright, fine. Yes, you were gone three weeks, but by no fault of your own. You’re home now and you’re ok, and you’ve barely looked at me. You blame me, don’t you?! You hate me, regret ever getting into this with me.” Dean’s eyes glared with silent accusation and hurt, which easily cut through any animosity you felt towards the situation.

One look at the anguish written across his face and your heart sank. “I—no, Dean. I don’t blame you. I said as much to Sam yesterday.”

“Oh, great. So, you did have time talk about it, just not to me. I guess he’s your bestie now?” Dean’s eyes narrowed at you accusingly, the little crinkles at the corners were well defined by his hurt.

“Dean, I wanted to be a part of your life, somehow find a way I can embrace what you do, while still keeping my sanity and not worrying that you’re going to die every five minutes. This whole thing has fucked me up, okay? I’m sorry if it was easier to talk to Sam yesterday, than you. I’m sorry if I’m not responding how you want me too. But I didn’t grow up around this like you guys, I can’t as easily brush it aside or just move on!”

“No one said you had to, I want to help you through it. But I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me,” he said a bit calmer now, though there was still an edge to his tone. One that told you he was holding back a lot of emotion as to not upset you further.

“I don’t blame you. I blame myself. You can say, wrong place, wrong time all you want. Maybe that’s all it was. But I can’t help but blame myself for letting my guard down and for whatever it was I did while out there. Do you know how that feels?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he sighed. “When I couldn’t remember who I was, and those nightmares came every night. I was petrified and constantly worried about what kind of monster I really was. How could I do the things I saw myself doing? Would I do them to you? So, yeah, I get it.”

“I want this to work, Dean, I really do.” You replied softly, sliding towards him across the bench seat. “I don’t want to lose you or your brother. Frankly, yeah, he has sort of become my best friend. Not that you aren’t, but with you it’s different. I’m so scared of ruining this that sometimes I don’t say or do what I think I should. Fear is a wretched thing, Dean.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be afraid. No matter what happened while you were gone, or whatever happens in the future, I’m not going anywhere. Long as you want me around, I’m here.”

You could feel some of the weight begin to lift, and even more when he reached out for you. Dean’s arm moved from the back of the seat to your shoulder and drew you in, allowing your head to rest in the crook of his arm. He left a soft kiss to the top of your head and he looked out over the storefronts that lined Main Street. You felt his body sit up in attention, so you looked at where his gaze landed.

“Come on,” he said and moved to open the car door, “there’s one more precaution we forgot to take.”

Looking between him and the storefront, his attention was turned to, you felt an unsettling stir in your gut. It was a place you’d seen a million times, throughout your life. Even though you’d never been in there, you did know who owned it and even dated his nephew years before. Something about it made you feel uneasy though, and not because of the past connection.  

“The tattoo parlor? Why?” you asked both to Dean and to yourself. You didn’t have tattoos, so why would you have gone in there while possessed, and why would Dean want you to go in there now? “Look, I am all for this relationship, but if you’re thinking matching tattoos or something—”

“No,” he laughed, “not at all.” He paused and considered your comment. “Well… actually, yes. But not for the reason you think.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt exposing his own tattoo. “Keeps the demons out. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it before all this. You should have one.”

A bit of relief expelled in the form of a sigh. “Oh, I see. I mean sure, but why this particular place? Why now?”

Dean didn’t answer, he got out of the car and motioned for you to follow. Begrudgingly, you exited through the passenger side door and met him at the front of the car. “Dean, why now? Why today? Can’t it wait? I just wanna go home and shower. Lay in my bed and just be happy to be home.”

Dean shook his head. “I know, and I’m sorry but I’m not taking any more chances here. Demons are greedy and petty sons-of-bitches. Completely unpredictable and always looking for a way back in. They grabbed you once, can’t let that happen again.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with,” you relented, which seemed to make him very happy. Dean took your hand and headed towards the store, while somewhere inside of you warning bells were going off one after the other.

Being that it was mid-afternoon, the shop was empty and quiet except for the music playing somewhere behind the curtains. Dean cleared his throat loudly to call someone’s attention up front.

A deep, raspy voice from beyond the crushed black velvet cloth grumbled, “One minute!” It was followed by a loud groan and the creaking sound of old furniture. When the curtain parted, and the man stepped through you could barely contain your reaction.

“Ellie?!” The heavily bearded, six foot plus tall man, in a white T-shirt and patched leather cut stared at you in disbelief. At first, his face was wrought in anger, but when he realized he was looking at someone he knew, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N?!” his mouth hung open in shock, his eyes wide with elation. “I’ll be damned! Never thought I’d see you here!”

Elliot, the hulking figure behind the counter moved with the grace of a gazelle as he nearly scaled the display case and engulfed you in his overly muscled and tattooed arms.

The shock of seeing one of your ex-boyfriends was enough but having him greet you the way he did was what sent you reeling. Elliot had been one of the only people you had dated in the past that treated you halfway decent. Even though he drank too much, rode his Harley too fast and disappeared for weeks at a time, he had been the most stable and kind boyfriend you’d had up until meeting Dean. Thinking he had disappeared months after you’d broken up, he was the last person you ever thought you’d see again.

“I—what—what are you doing here?” you asked as he let go and held you at arms-length, giving your entire body a lingering glance over.

“I run the place now. Uncle Tommy passed ‘bout six months ago, left it to me in his will. Figured I’d come home and see how the old place was. Not like I had much going on.”

“Wow, well, its uh, its great to see you, Ellie,” you said as congenially as you could. Glancing over at Dean for the first time, you saw he was watching closely. His arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed, and face contorted into a look of warning at boring into Elliot’s soul.

“It’s damn good to see you, cupcake. Been thinking lots about you lately. Actually, thought about coming by the old store. Wanted to see how you and Shane were doing.”

“Shane doesn’t work there anymore,” you said curtly, hoping to deter him from bringing up your stepbrother again. “Haven’t talked to him for months.”

“Shame. We were all so close back then. Hell, he’s the one who got me to propose to ya.”

“Whoa, whoa… propose?” Dean finally chimed in, unable to stay silent any longer. “Y/N, who the hell—”

“Dean,” you cut him off and grabbed his very tense upper arms, pulling him closer, “this is my old friend Elliot. Elliot, this is Dean.”

“ _New_  friend of yours?” Elliot asked, sizing him up and giving him a dismissive glance.

“Boyfriend… actually,” Dean said with a sarcastic grin and affirmative nod. He reached out a hand to shake with Elliot, but Elliot just ignored him and turned his attention back to you and stifled a chuckle.

“Mmm. ‘K,” he mumbled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “So whatcha come in for? All those years I tried to get you to get inked up and you always turned me down. Why now?”

You looked at Dean and smiled softly. “Its, uh, something special. Dean and I we…” you paused, trying to think of a valid reason without giving the truth away, as to why you wanted the tattoo you did. “…wanted matching tattoos.”

Dean choked slightly and looked at you with a hint of surprise on his face, which gave way to a knowing smile.

“Uh, no way. Not you,” Elliot started shaking his head vigorously in protest. “The Y/N I knew would never—”

“She ain’t yours to know anymore, buddy.”

Elliot whirled around and closed the gap between himself and Dean quickly. “What’d you say?”

Knowing Elliot’s quick temper, and Dean’s stubbornness, you jumped between them, a hand on each of their respective chests. “Listen, boys, knock it off, alright? Ellie, I just want a tat. If you can’t do it without dredging up the past, I’ll go somewhere else.”

“He’s the one—”

“He’s the one who’s gonna show you the tattoo, ‘cause he’s already got it. Then, he’s gonna come ‘round back with me while you work. Again, if it’s a problem, we’re happy to leave.”

Your expression conveyed a low simmering annoyance that Elliot must have remembered well. He relaxed his body and his face fell with acceptance. “Fine. Sorry, man.”

“Same here,” Dean relented and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, its been a rough few weeks.” Dean took your hand and gave it a squeeze. “Guess I’m still on edge.”

The electricity in the room seemed to fizzle a bit, and you felt you could breathe again. “Alright?” you asked looking at Elliot, who rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Let me see what we’re doing,” he said to Dean and gestured “come on” with his hands. “Show me.”

Dean pulled down the collar of his Henley to reveal the anti-possession tattoo just long enough for Elliot to get a good look at it. He looked back you to and shook his head disapprovingly.

“This ain’t for you, cupcake. You should get something soft and pretty like you are,” he said and brushed the back of his hand against your cheek. Swatting it away like a fly, you sighed and pulled Dean towards the doors.

“I know this is important,” you whispered, “but let’s get this done somewhere else.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. It’s just… well, I haven’t seen ya in years, but damn do I think of ya all the time. You were part of the reason I came back to this place. When you dumped me—I got lost. Went to Vegas and just drown myself in booze ‘n sin. But, getting Uncle Tommy’s will and shit, it was like a sign.”

“Ellie—”

“I know, you’ve gone and moved on. I gotta accept it. Don’t mean I gotta like it,” he said and passed another flippant glance at Dean. “But I promise to try and respect it.”

You looked at Dean who shrugged and said, “Your call.”

“Fine. I just want this done. Can you do it or not?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem. Why don’t you come on back and I’ll get the stencil ready,” Elliot turned and opened the small gate between the front and back of the shop, stepping aside so you could go through first.

“Thanks, Ellie,” Dean smirked but stopped in his tracks when Elliot turned suddenly, his large frame blocking Dean’s way through.

“No one, and I mean NO ONE calls me Ellie. You got that, pal?”

“Well, she did.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t her. Watch yourself while you’re in my place here, buddy.” His mocking tone and emphasis on the last word gave Dean a moment of pause.

“Fair enough,” he said holding his hands up in relent. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with a warning and just above a whisper. “Let’s just get one thing straight, Elliot. That’s  _my_ girlfriend. You’re going to treat her with all the respect in the world, and when you ink her, you’re going to be precise and careful, and you’re gonna keep your hands where I can see them. She’s just been through Hell and back, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some giant ex-boyfriend of hers rile up anymore crap.”

Dean’s eyes burned with a threat that was enough to get through to Elliot.

“You have my word,” he said and moved aside for Dean to cut through. “I’ll be right with you guys, just gotta make a quick call then we’ll get the stencil ready.”

“Thanks, Ellie,” you responded and smiled as Dean sidled up to you.

Once Elliot was out of earshot, Dean turned to you, his eyes wide and half a smirk planted on his face.

“So, how come you never told me you once dated Hopper?” he asked excitedly, his surly demeanor pushed aside. 

You snorted a confused laugh. “What?”

“You don’t see it? That guy looks  _just_ like Hop from  _Stranger Things_. Tell me you don’t see it.”

“I don’t… ok, maybe a little. But I wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t point it out.”

“Damn, its all I can see. I sorta wanna ask him about Eleven but I’m legit scared he may throw me out by my ear.”

You knew he wasn’t really, just trying to get you to smile. Dean took your hand again and for the first time since you woke up in the hospital, he kissed you. It felt like it had been forever since you felt his lips against yours, but just like always, they were soft and welcoming. You couldn’t imagine what life would be like without ever kissing him again.

You pulled back, biting on your lower lip and resting your forehead against his. “I’m sorry I was a shit and didn’t talk to you. From now on, we’re in this together, completely.”

“Good,” his voice was rough and raspy, just how you liked hearing it. “That’s really good. I’m getting kind of used to you now, so…”

“Very funny,” you said and hit him playfully in the arm. “Is this gonna hurt?”

“Probably. But its worth it if it helps keep you safe.”

“Its fine, and yeah, it is if gives you peace of mind.”

Dean’s expression turned serious, a million unsaid things passed across his face before he simply said, “I love you, you know.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

[Originally posted by bionxbandersnatch-blog](https://tmblr.co/ZOPxHwZ_zIx1)

 

Elliot pulled his cell phone from his pocket and peaked over his shoulder at Y/N and her new boyfriend before he stepped outside the parlor and onto the sidewalk. Foot traffic was scarce, so he didn’t mind making this particular call in such a public way. He hit two on his speed dial and waited for the ringing to stop.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, boss. She’s here. Got some idiot with her, too. One of the Winchesters I think.”

“Fantastic, just like I thought. Dean Winchester never disappoints. You know what to do?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Great. Don’t disappoint me, Elliot. Remember what’s at stake here.”

With that, the call went dead and Elliot re-entered the shop. He paused outside the curtain, moving it aside just enough to watch her before he got started. She was just as beautiful as he’d remembered and was suddenly glad he took on the job he was offered.

A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest as he watched Winchester lean in to kiss her. He lingered as they shared a moment; watching in disgust as she returned the kiss with her hand gently caressing the back of his neck. He remembered everything about her, including the expression she had when she was in love. Because maybe, there had been a hot moment when she looked at him like that. Now, as he stood peering into their lives, he realized that never once had she really looked at him, the way she was staring at Dean.

Elliot cleared his throat and made a grand gesture of tossing the curtain aside as he entered the back of the shop.

“Let’s get you inked, cupcake.”


End file.
